


there is no other shelter here

by summerwoodsmoke



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Canon-Typical Hatred of Goblins, Canon-Typical Nott, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Nott POV, Pre-Series, Sharing a Bed, canon-typical self-hatred, is the tag i SHOULD be using
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-31 16:37:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15123539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerwoodsmoke/pseuds/summerwoodsmoke
Summary: They didn't usually sleep next to each other.When they stayed in towns, they'd share a bed, but sleep in their own spaces. Nott was used to sleeping alone, and she had a vague fear of the claws on her feet scratching Caleb’s soft human skin right open while they slept. Caleb also seemed used to his own space, so it worked out.The first night they slept next to each other was after a fight.





	there is no other shelter here

**Author's Note:**

> "Alas, the storm is come again! My best way is to creep under his gaberdine; there is no other shelter hereabout: misery acquaints a man with strange bed-fellows."  
>  —The Tempest

Caleb and Nott barely made it back to the Nestled Nook Inn, what with the beating Caleb had taken. Nott tried her best to help him, but his height rendered her almost useless; instead she just held his hand in hers and kept up a steady stream of quiet encouragements the whole way, heart pounding in her chest.

The stairs in the inn were another problem. Caleb was barely conscious at that point, but at least he had the sense of mind to prop himself against the wall, so from there, Nott pushed and prodded him up the rest of the way, then down the hall to their door.

Caleb stumbled face-first onto the bed and lay unmoving. Nott pulled off his boots with shaking hands, then moved to his head, slapping his face gently until he rolled over onto his back. He groaned as he did, and Nott winced in sympathy. He sounded like he was in a lot of pain, but she couldn't see any cuts, just bruises. She hoped none of his bones were broken or cracked, because there really was nothing she could do for that.

“You just need to rest, Caleb.” She patted his cheek and stepped back, only to be stopped by his hand on her wrist.

“You'll stay, ja?” Caleb asked, near breathless. His eyes weren't even open; he looked so tired and hurt. If there was ever a time for his goblin companion to leave him well enough alone, now would be it. But somehow, that wasn't what he wanted.

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” she said. It was barely midday, but she shut the window and locked the door like it was night anyway. They'd have to do without his magic string, but she could take care of him. She _would_ take care of him.

Climbing into bed next to Caleb was old hat by now. It didn't give her any of the heebie-jeebies it once had, nor the butterflies. Instead, it felt more like a well-worn habit, a safe haven of sorts. Nott lay high on the pillows so Caleb’s head was tucked below hers. He couldn't roll over on his side like he usually did—tried to, but hissed and stayed on his back—so instead of one arm tossed over her side, he gave her his other arm, tucked up between them. She let her fingers tangle with his, grasping tight, assuring herself he was still there. He squeezed back, once, hard.

“Stay,” he whispered again, and then he was asleep.

Hours passed with Nott barely moving, too afraid of hurting him. The beating he'd taken that morning…she would've given almost anything to have taken his place, to protect him from that, although she supposed shooting one of his assaulters in the arm was better than nothing.

Eventually, Nott could convince herself that he was fine, they were both fine, and he would only get better, not worse, and so she slowly extracted herself, dropping to the floor to search Caleb’s bag for what had been stolen.

A quick look revealed that the answer to that question was ‘most everything’. All of his money and most of his spell components had been nabbed by the two losers in the alleyway. Nott had never been more grateful that Caleb kept his spellbooks on his person, since they hadn't thought to check there.

Healing was far out of Nott’s purview, but acquiring lost things? That was her specialty. After a last checkover of Caleb, she rushed out into the afternoon, eager to make the itch go away while also helping her friend.

She got back to the Nestled Nook at its busiest evening hour, slipping along the edges of the crowd, avoiding the waitress bustling around, and ducking past some over-enthusiastic patron’s gesticulating limbs. Soon enough, Nott had left behind the light and noise of the first floor for the quiet emptiness of the second. She slipped into their room and saw that Caleb hadn't moved at all—her shoulders drooped in relief that he hadn't woken up to an empty room.

The room was a bit of a mess, but Nott figured that could be tomorrow's problem. She placed the things she'd taken that afternoon next to Caleb’s bag, then walked to the bed, shedding her cloak as she went. She climbed up, kneeling by his chest. She watched him for a minute, his chest rising and falling with each breath, his face, under its new bruises, looking a little distressed, like he was having a bad dream. Nott hesitated, then ran her palm across his forehead, moving his hair off his face.

He'd been asleep for a really long time already, but she guessed he still needed his rest. Again, she thought if there was ever a time for her to keep her distance, now was it. Caleb wasn't awake to disagree this time. Nott looked at the door, then back to the bed.

“I'll keep you safe,” she whispered hoarsely, then moved to the foot of the bed, made a nest, and, watching him until she couldn't keep her eyes open anymore, fell into sleep.

———

The storm raged outside, loud against the shuttered window, making Nott grateful to have a place to stay indoors for the night, even if it was in a human town. She didn't have fond memories of storms growing up: the wet, the noise, the lightning, she hated it all.

_Lightning starts fires sometimes_ , she wanted to say, but she didn't, partly because Caleb was so smart, he likely already knew that, but mostly because she didn't want to bring up fire with him if she didn't have to.

Thunder sounded once again and Nott shivered. Caleb, finished with his silver thread barrier, was now taking off his coat and watching her. “No nest tonight,” he said. “Come up by the pillow.”

Nott grumbled but did as he said, moving from the foot of the bed up to the top. Months of this, and she still wasn't terribly used to human sleeping customs, but it was a cold night, and a stormy one, so she'd indulge him.

Caleb slid into the bed and lay down next to her. He shifted her gently so one arm cradled her neck, then moved to rest the other over her waist. Noise cracked outside—Caleb blinked rapidly, and Nott felt her ears twitch, but she felt safe, with Caleb close like this.

“I’ve never much liked storms,” she said quietly.

Caleb’s arm shifted to press a hand against her back. “No,” he said, “No, neither have I.”

———

Nott couldn't stop shaking. It had been a particularly bad day for them—they'd gotten noticed not once, but twice during their attempts at conning people, and they'd nearly gotten nabbed again.

Nott, curled up near Caleb’s feet, could tell he was still awake. His breathing was erratic like hers, and he was lying still on his back; he always rolled over in his sleep, she'd noticed. But she wasn't sure if he knew she was awake too. She didn't say anything.

The sheets rustled, then Caleb sighed. “Nott,” he whispered. “Nott?” Drat.

“Yes, Caleb?”

“Come up here,” he said, then paused and added, “Please.”

Nott stiffened, then relaxed. She unfurled slowly, then moved, hands and feet, up the bed. Frumpkin took her nest spot almost immediately, but she resisted the urge to hiss at him. She could see how... _wrecked_ Caleb looked, now that she was closer. She kneeled at his shoulder and took him in, her dirty, tired friend, who seemed to not be doing well tonight.

Well, who was she to talk?

“Rough day, huh?” she said, to let him gauge how close she was. He nodded and lifted an arm, moving it to slide across her hair, caress her cheek, then rest on her arm and gently tug, an unspoken request. Nott sucked on her teeth for a second before giving in. She patted his hand, then waited till he moved it to lift his blanket, and crawled into place next to him.

Touch between them was like a dam breaking; her feet brushed against his side as she slid down into place, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her, pressed his face into her hair. She let her fingers tangle up in his shirt, let herself breathe at the crook of his shoulder and neck. Seconds ticked by with neither of them moving. Nott’s shakes were calmed. Caleb’s breathing smoothed out.

“Today was close, my friend,” he murmured in her ear.

She nodded against his collarbone. “Too close,” she whispered.

———

They didn't usually sleep next to each other. Out in the wilderness, they'd take turns sharing their bed roll while the other kept watch. Nott liked little more than coming off watch and crawling into a warm nest of bedding that smelled comfortingly like Caleb. But he wasn't usually _there_ when she did.

And when they stayed in towns, they'd share a bed, but sleep in their own spaces. Nott was used to sleeping alone, and she had a vague fear of the claws on her feet scratching Caleb’s soft human skin right open while they slept. Caleb also seemed used to his own space, so it worked out.

The first night they slept next to each other was after a fight.

They'd been in their current town for two days already, and they were in disagreement over whether to try any more cons on these people or not. Caleb had just come up with the idea for Modern Literature, and Nott wanted to try it, but Caleb thought they should wait till they went to a new town, somewhere people wouldn't be suspicious of them.

“What's the point of these plans if we never _execute_ them?” Nott had asked incredulously.

“The point of them is to help us and keep us safe, ja? It won't do either for us in this town,” Caleb asserted. “So we will wait.”

Nott’s instinct to trust Caleb, already rather ingrained in her, fought against her own opinion and general excitement for cons. “Fine!” she said finally. “We’ll wait! But in the meantime, I’m going to go scratch my itch the good old fashioned way.”

And she'd stormed off to go steal from some random sucker. She'd heard Caleb sputter behind her, but he didn't follow—to her dismay or relief, she wasn't sure.

An hour later, when she was cornered in an alley, she thought _Dismay, definitely dismay._

“I’m sorry, I'm sorry!” she said aloud, holding her hands up in front of her face. “It was an accident, definitely won't happen again!”

One of the two hulking humans cornering her rubbed his knuckles against one palm. “An accident, huh? My sister’s bracelet just, what? Fell off her wrist? Right into your hand?”

“You think we’re stupid?” the other human interjected, and Nott had to bite her tongue so she wouldn't yelp _yes!_ This was scary enough, didn't need to make them any madder.

The first guy, the brother, made a grab at her that she couldn't dodge, and he made a fist around her arm, tiny in his grasp. “He asked you a question,” he said, low and quiet.

“No, no, I don't, I don't think you're stupid,” Nott gibbered, already wincing, already preparing herself for the strike.

First, the brother shoved her against the alley wall—wood, not too bad for her head. She sank to the ground. Then, the friend kicked her in the ribs, and grabbed the same arm and hauled her back up to her feet. She was coughing at that point, a little woozy, and mentally completely lost—she thought she was back…back _home_ , despite the height of the men. She thought _just take it, it'll be over faster, then you can curl up with a flask and live to try again tomorrow._

The fist slammed into her cheekbone like a brick—just as hard and just as big. She could feel her skin split, could already feel the bruise swelling. She stayed on the ground where she'd landed, still thinking _just take it, just take it,_ and was lying there with her eyes screwed shut when she felt a blast of heat above her.

Instinct had her scamper back until she was against the wooden wall, and when she opened her eyes, it was to the delightful image of the two men who had been beating her with burning butts. Literal pants on fire. She laughed, despite her aching ribs. Down at the alley opening, she saw the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen in her whole life: Caleb Widogast, dirty and rumpled, looking like fury and fiery hell raining down on all before him.

The men ran the other way, yelling and swearing. She lay on the ground, laughing and clutching her chest. And Caleb came rushing forward, desperate to help, even though, Nott noticed drowsily, his hands were shaking.

After it all, back in their room at the inn, Caleb wouldn't stop hovering, his hands fluttering above her bruised and bleeding face as he vacillated between cursing in Zemnian, words she was starting to recognize, and apologizing for his useless magic not being able to help her.

She caught one of his hands in her own after a few minutes of this. “Caleb, your magic helped plenty. I wouldn't be here without it.”

He looked flustered at her sincere words, dropping his gaze, and Nott suspected her cheeks were darkening as well.

“I will, uh, I will go ask for something for your face. Downstairs. Ja.” Caleb cleared his throat and stood up. She let his hand slide out from hers. “Be right back,” he said.

And still, after weeks of this, of him, she was surprised when he did come back.

“I had to order a drink, it's apparently the coldest thing they have here,” he explained sheepishly, holding up a tankard as big as her face.

Her mouth watered at the sight. “C-could I just—?” She made a half-hearted grab for the tankard.

After a moment-long look of confusion, Caleb snuffed a laugh. “I think not, my friend. Your face needs this more than your stomach.” He gently pressed the tankard to her cheek and she hissed. It was definitely cold. She hoped this would be worth it; usually she just let bruises and cuts heal on their own. She wasn't really used to sitting still for so long either. Not without booze, at least.

Caleb noticed her twitchiness and snapped his fingers, Frumpkin appearing on her lap. “No eating, please,” Caleb said politely. Nott slammed her lips together. No eating, no drinking, but at least she was safe. At least she was with Caleb. She pet Frumpkin gently and let Caleb attend to her face.

Eventually, the tankard didn't feel cold anymore, whether because it had warmed up or her face had numbed, she wasn't sure, but either way, Caleb let her drink it at that point. It wasn't _that_ good, but booze was booze, and it had been a long day.

Frumpkin had long since left her lap, choosing to curl up at the foot of the bed and shift into a half-asleep storm of purring. Nott watched the cat as she finished her drink. _My spot_ , she thought grumpily. Whatever. She was plenty used to sleeping on hard surfaces, especially with injuries.

“You should get some rest,” Caleb said softly. She nodded and made to slide off the bed, only to be stopped by his hand. “Where are you going?”

Confused, she made a vague gesture at the floor. “To sleep? I didn't want to move Frumpkin, so...”

Caleb kept her gaze locked on his for a solid ten seconds before he moved or responded. “Stay on the bed, Nott.” And at her hesitance, he added, so quietly, “Please.”

At that, she nodded, short and haltingly. She let him take the empty tankard, pushed herself up to the top of the bed as she watched him putter around the room in his familiar routine. She sat on top of the blankets, unable to move, as she watched him remove his coat and put away his books, dim the lantern and close the window. Her heart was pounding for some probably ridiculous reason, and as he approached the bed, she thought wildly, _I hope he can't hear it._

“Lift up for a second,” he murmured, and she did, first her bum, then her feet, letting him fold the blanket down so he could—so they could both—Nott shuddered and lay down.

Before she knew it, Caleb was pulling the blanket back up around her shoulders and they were both lying on their sides, face to face—why hadn't she faced the other way? Why was her first instinct around Caleb always directed towards him, like he was the brightest star, or the shiniest metal?

He was watching her, her wondrous human friend, her second friend, her _only_ friend, with something in his eyes she thought must be concern. Her heart felt a bit too big for her chest.

“I’m alright,” she said.

Caleb lifted a hand like he wanted to rest it on her—her head or her torso, she couldn't tell, as he put his hand back on the bed, the space between them. “I just have to remind myself,” he said finally.

A beat, and then she asked, “Are _you_ alright?”

He laughed hoarsely. “I will be. You shouldn't have to ask, not when you are the one hurt, I’m sorry.”

Nott remembered sitting on the outside of a prison cell, too drunk to talk straight, and Yeza, to her incredulity, asking if she was alright. “Don't apologize,” she croaked. “I asked because I care.”

Caleb’s face crinkled from some emotion, and Nott feared crying might follow, or perhaps raucous laughter, but neither did. He simply exhaled. “I care too,” he replied.

Nott swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry I left,” she said quietly. “I was being bratty.”

“I’m sorry I didn't follow. I think we were both being rather bratty today.” Caleb readjusted the blankets at his chest, and suddenly, seeing both hands at once, on a simple, slow task, Nott realized that they were shaking. Still. Again? Either way.

A part of her balked at the thought of touching him, reaching out to him with her clawed hands, but she took a breath and did it anyway: slowly, because it was dark in their room, and she wasn't sure if he could see much of anything. He started a bit when her fingers brushed his, but beyond that, he didn't react. Slowly, slowly, she pulled his hands towards her, to her face, lifting them and resting them against her cheeks, one smooth and flat, the other raised and sore. She kept her hands on his for a second longer, savouring the feeling of touch so soft and light that didn't harm either of them, before letting go and letting him choose for himself.

He didn't move. She focused on his face, and saw he was wide-eyed and unseeing, his breaths long and deep.

After a moment, she whispered, “Thank you, Caleb.”

Caleb’s eyes went a bit shiny. He rubbed his thumbs slowly across her face. “Always, Nott. Always.”

———

Sleeping next to each other didn't become habit after that; not even close. If anything, doing it under such dramatic circumstances the first time pushed off any sort of repeat for quite a while.

The second time, everything was so different, it made the first time seem like it happened in a dream, or another life.

They were on the road, traveling south. Days from any town in any direction. They'd run into some other foot travelers near dusk, a group of gnomes and humans, who had convinced them that sharing camp for the night would be convenient for all.

Caleb had met her gaze at the offer, silently asking. She shrugged, raising her eyebrows a bit as well. She had her mask on, they hadn't noticed she was a goblin yet, and their leader was right: larger groups were safer against attacks from goblins and other wild monsters.

Caleb kneeled next to her. “Are you sure?” he whispered.

She nodded. “Just for one night. We’ll be safe. And I'll keep it on.”

He studied her eyes for a moment longer before nodding. “Thank you for the offer, we accept,” he told the gnome woman waiting for their answer.

“Great,” she said with a smile. “And don't either of y'all worry about watches, we have a system worked out, so we’ll have that covered. The two of you can just go right to sleep.”

Nott’s spine stiffened. _There_ was something they hadn't thought of. One bedroll, and no need to keep watch?

Caleb cleared his throat. “Ah, thank you. Much appreciated.”

After a dinner where Caleb said little and Nott said not a word, they readied for bed as far as they could manage being from the group without being out of the circle of their fire. Nott stood awkwardly, her back to the fire, as she watched Caleb kneel and try to sneakily place the silver thread just around their bedroll. The group seemed nice, but Caleb and Nott were still Caleb and Nott. Nott was just barely resisting the urge to steal from _them_ , and she was already planning to do so before they separated in the morning. But not yet.

“Good night!” The gnome woman called to them from across the fire. Nott’s fingers itched but she didn't turn around. Caleb looked up—kneeling like this, they were the same height, and Nott found his eyes fascinating up close—and answered, sounding a little harried, “Ah, good night. And thank you again.”

The gnome woman responded, but at that point Nott stopped listening, because Caleb was moving to the side, gesturing for her to lie down.

Less than a minute later, they were mostly sorted, lying down facing each other, Caleb with his back to the fire, hiding Nott from view. The bedroll was not large, and fears of accidentally hurting him or no, Nott didn't really have a choice in the matter when it came to touch. There was virtually no space between them.

It wasn't something Nott was used to, really, a big, warm body, slightly curled around her like protection. Sleeping in a huddled nest of bodies wasn't that uncommon in her clan, but that was usually on cold nights, or mid-hunt, and usually that meant she was on the outskirts, an afterthought. ‘Body contact’ in those situations usually meant a foot in her stomach, or a butt in her face.

Caleb’s finger brushed the top edge of her mask, returning her to the present and shattering her thoughts. “I’m sorry you must keep it on all night,” he whispered, so, so quiet. He kept his finger on the mask; Nott could feel his fingernail just below her eye. An odd sensation, but not unpleasant. “It must be uncomfortable.”

It took Nott a second to focus. “Oh, it's alright. This is nothing, really.” Her face might feel too hot in the morning, or she might have grooves in her cheeks, but it really was nothing in the grand scheme of it all.

Caleb’s finger pulled away. Nott fought down a shudder and closed her eyes, trying to sleep. She could hear the crackle of the fire, the low tones of the two gnomes on watch in the darkness. It seemed peaceful out here. She hoped she could sleep. She inhaled deeply.

And Caleb’s voice crowded in around her again.

“I...am sorry to ask this, friend, but...may I put—” he exhaled noisily. Nott’s eyes cracked open and she saw his arm hovering above them in mid-air. Caleb continued, “May I put my arm across you? There's no room between us, I don't know where else to put it that wouldn't be uncomfortable.”

A memory, sudden and sharp, sliced across her mind, of Yeza, of being sent in after Rull was done with him, _torturer’s_ _assistant_ , to take him back to his prison, and pulling the halfling’s arm around her neck, because the bloody and bruised man couldn't stand on his own two feet.

It was the most physical touch she'd had in months, beatings notwithstanding.

Nott looked at Caleb's hovering arm again. It was shaking a bit; Caleb was powerful, but he wasn't very strong. And yet he wouldn't put it down unless she said okay. _Always, Nott_. She swallowed, met Caleb’s eye, and nodded.

He nodded jerkily in reply, then lowered his arm. It came to a rest on her waist, warmer than the fire could ever have made her. Kind of heavy, but not anywhere near heavy enough to hurt her. She was uncomfortable, but it wasn't because _he_ was making her uncomfortable: she was just unused to being so wrapped up in another person’s space, a place she so thoroughly _shouldn't_ be!

And yet, her eyes were drifting shut again. The quiet, peaceful sounds of the night weren't interrupted by anything. She was warm, safe. And she fell asleep faster and easier than she had in a long, long time.

Dawn broke the sky and found them even closer than they'd been the night before, so cautious. Caleb’s breath had the faintest of visible clouds when he exhaled into the spring air, misting over the crown of Nott’s head. Nott’s own breath was hidden by her mask, hot and clammy against her face, just like she'd thought it would be.

Nott woke up the same second Caleb did, rapidly cataloging their layout—his arm across her waist, hand up by her shoulder, tangled in her hair, holding her close? her hands curled up under her chin, all her claws safely tucked away, and, the weirdest, her face mashed into Caleb’s chest, right by his armpit—before relaxing.

Caleb’s arm shifted infinitesimally. Nott’s face was sore from being pressed firmly against the porcelain for so long. And, even through the mask, she could smell Caleb’s armpit _just_ fine. It wasn't the most pleasant of smells, but as she pulled her head back, loosening her mask, she kept one fact focused in her mind: Caleb smelled specifically, overwhelmingly human. Not like a goblin. Not like a...like a monster. Sweaty, dirty, stinky, _human_. Nott found it practically relieving.

———

After dinner one night at an inn, the both of them a little tipsy, they went up to their room and sat next to each other on the bed, leaning up against the pillows. Caleb pulled out one of his spellbooks and they sat close as he proceeded to teach Disguise Self to her.

Nott rested against his arm as he talked, then shifted to the wall behind them once he let her take the book and read the spell through for herself. He followed her, letting their arms warm against each other as he watched her read.

“Do you like magic?” Caleb asked at one point. Nott put a finger on the page to hold her place and fought a grimace at the sight of her own hand, rough and sharp and awful. She turned to face Caleb instead.

“I love magic,” she said with a fair amount of reverence in her voice. Caleb’s own amusement fell away as he studied her.

“May I ask why?” he said after a moment.

Nott let her gaze drift to the far corner of the room, then the ceiling, then Caleb’s feet, then back to his face. “I just...I feel...it makes people’s lives a lot better, you know?”

Caleb’s entire face twitched in a terribly weird way that let Nott know he didn't agree, but wouldn't say it. She thought that was an odd opinion for a _wizard_ to have of magic, but who was she to judge?

“It can, I suppose, ja,” Caleb finally replied.

Nott looked back at the spell then smirked at Caleb. “Think of all the cons we can pull off when we can _both_ look however we want?”

His own smirk began to form. “You be the child, I be the father, they’ll never suspect!”

Nott laughed excitedly, jostling the book in her lap, losing her place without realizing it. “No, no, even better, you be the _mother_! Nobody looks twice at mothers with their children!”

Caleb nodded. “You're absolutely right. Nobody would suspect a thing of a mother and her little one.” He ruffled her hair at his last words, and she swatted at him gently, snorting. “But first, you have to actually learn the spell!” He picked the book up from where it had fallen between them, rifled through back to her spot, and handed it to her.

She kept trying to read, honest, but they must have been a bit more than tipsy, because the idea of this con—quickly dubbed Mother’s Love—being so easily successful was so amusing to them, they couldn't stop laughing at the possibilities.

Nott didn't really remember becoming drowsy and lying down. If she had to guess, she'd say she and Caleb both slid to horizontal positions without realizing it, let the lantern go dark without realizing it, left the spell unfinished in Nott’s mind without realizing it…

Nott woke up the next morning to the sunshine and the sound of birds coming in through the window, with a headache—normal, for her—her hand caught between the pages of a book, and an arm thrown around her. On half-asleep instinct, Nott kicked out for a moment, luckily hitting nothing before remembering where she was. Blearily, she could see Caleb’s chest a few inches away, her forehead nearly touching his collarbone. She twisted back, trying to see his face, and accidentally hit his chin with the crown of her head.

He groaned and muttered some swear in Zemnian she didn't know yet, moving the arm around her waist to rub his chin and hitting her ear with his hand on the way up. She twitched it and rescinded the apology that had been on her lips. He'd live.

“Ooh, I do not like drinking like that.” Caleb moaned, his hand now covering his eyes. Nott herself was watching him through slitted eyes, unwillingly to open them any wider quite yet.

“You just need to practice,” Nott replied sleepily.

Caleb sniffed his nose, making a dull roar sound that flooded Nott’s ears. “No, thank you. Practice is for skills that are actually useful.”

Nott kicked a leg out, on purpose this time, and caught him in the lower stomach. He _oof_ ’d. “Being able to hold your liquor _is_ a useful skill.”

Caleb dropped his arm back across her waist. His eyes were closed again. “Not as useful as Disguise Self, I’d say.”

Nott grumbled wordlessly and extricated the spellbook from where it was trapped between them. His arm was heavy but pleasantly warm, and she wasn't exactly planning on going anywhere with this headache. She slid the book up between them and opened it, leaning it against Caleb’s chest.

“Step nine,” she announced, a bit too loud to be normal. Caleb groaned over her. She grinned.

**Author's Note:**

> after taking months of convincing to start a dnd show, i did not expect my first experience with critical role to be honing in on the VERY first characters introduced because they were SHARING A BED but i did and here we are. thank you tatra, thank you leslie, and of course, thank you liam and sam
> 
> and thank you for reading! kudos and comments are much appreciated. if you like, you can find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/alinastarkovas) or on [tumblr](https://tanosoka.tumblr.com)


End file.
